Beneath the Blue Waters
by SeaEmerald
Summary: Excited to live alone, 26-year-old CSI Brandon moves into an affordable country home without question, ignoring the unnerving rumors behind it. But when mysterious incidents start to occur, including unbelievably real, haunting apparitions of a young woman in white, he's torn between doubting his sanity and unwittingly aiding a bloodthirsty ghost in her hidden quest for vengeance.


**DISCLAIMER: I DON'T OWN WINX CLUB. **

I'm guessing many of you read the summary but maybe you went like 'what the heck'. I know, I know, (if you actually _know _me and my style) this is very bizarre for me too! But hey, I'm willing to explore new terrains, so hopefully, I don't end up disappointing myself (or you). xD

**Heads-up: ****this characters in this story **_**may/will be **_**OOC on occasions**_**.**_** If you're the type to need perfect characterizations from the show all the time, I'm afraid you may not enjoy this fic as much :/** I also can't write humor very well. So, I'm throwing this disclaimer ahead of time because I don't want anyone to be disappointed. Thank you :)

**Disclaimer #2: **This story takes place in a little town called Sausalito in California (located within 10-11 miles from San Francisco). I tried my best to my study on it, so I do apologize in advance if any of the information is wrong. Tossing the geography lesson aside, the majority of this story takes place in a small, quiet town.

Again, this is a _**full-time Brella (yay for me) story**_, so there probably won't be any other Winx/Specialists in this story (maybe cameo appearances here and there but can't guarantee anything) like all my other ones. Most of my stories _**don't**_ feature other couples as heavily than the ones mentioned. The same goes for this one too. Aside from that, surprisingly, I didn't come across any supernatural-related stories in the Winx fandom (that's ironic, considering the show revolves around a realm full of fairies and witches xD), but then again, it's a very large fanbase with _5800+ _stories, and I obviously didn't read all of them.

_**Moving on…!**_

* * *

**~ Sausalito, California - 11:50 AM ~**

_Autumn..._

A beautiful season where one gets to witness that familiar, flamboyant brown of pale, flamed foliage dancing through the skies, scenting the atmosphere with earth's aroma, before finally resting as giant wisps of crackling confetti onto roads and sidewalks.

At least that's what everyone expects.

But for twenty-six-year-old Brandon McKnight, it's more than just autumn. To him, it's _freedom. _After _twenty-six _years, _twenty-six long years, _he's _finally _allowed to move out of his parents' home and experience life for himself. Soon, he's going to live without supervision—

"You're going to take care of yourself, alright?" Heather McKnight strictly warned her young, adventurous son.

…_But maybe not as soon as he had hoped._

"Yes, Mom," Brandon said with an exasperated sigh. _For the billionth time already._

"And that means taking care of yourself, eating well, sleeping well, and doing well on your job," Heather continued, ticking off her fingers as a checklist. "While you're at it, get yourself a girlfriend, okay?" she snickered, turning to him with an encouraging smirk. "A _real _one, maybe?" she added.

He chuckled before giving his mom a playful eyeroll. "We'll see," he smirked, a frisky smile stretching onto his lips. As quite the ladies' man, having a steady girlfriend of more than two months is virtually impossible for him. So far, he's only met girls who are interesting but not _too_ interesting. So…can't blame him for booting them outta his life. "Gotta find a home first though," he chuckled, steering the topic back on track. It was _embarrassing _to talk about ladies with a girl, much less _his mom._ Not to mention it's kind of none of her business?

"Exactly why there's absolutely _no_ need for you to move out," Heather pestered with a deep frown.

He tossed her a dry look before rolling his eyes. "You and dad are probably the only parents who haven't kicked out a grown adult of twenty-six years."

"Because you're my only son," Heather said sadly.

He shook his head and continued to drive, bickering away with his overprotective, yet amusingly charming mother. She was lowkey still trying to get him to come back to their house in Los Angeles, but heavens saved him from saying yes.

Working with law enforcement, especially as CSI, was always something he wanted to do. Forensics always fascinated him for some reason. It always thrilled him to investigate and crack cases that seemed unexplainable and not to sound immodest, but he _is_ good at his job. He had been working in LA for about four years now and was recently transferred to San Diego after placing a request many months ago. To say that he was ecstatic at the accepted request was a _dramatic_ understatement.

_Why?_

He is literally _twenty-six _years old and _yet_, he has _never_ experienced life outside of home. Throughout his entire education and schooling, he always studied from home, due to overly doting, overprotective parents. He never lived in a dorm before. _Yup. Embarrassment cooked to the max. _He hadn't had the chance to make mistakes, take a beating, slouch, laze off, etc. Basically, he was a bachelor who didn't get to live as a bachelor. _Lame. _He loved his parents and all, but sometimes, a grown man just needs his own space. Especially when that grown man wants to invite beautiful ladies over. _Can't forget that part,_ he smirked to himself.

"Where is this man taking us?!" Heather suddenly sighed in impatience, grumbling in annoyance and boring a hole into the dull-silver Porsche in front of them. "We've been driving for miles already!"

Brandon sighed before continuing to tail the car. "Mom, I told you that I wanted to live in the countryside. Of course, it's going to be away from the city!"

When his transfer order to San Francisco dropped in, he went over the moon and instantly accepted it without a doubt. And despite his parents' initial wariness, they eventually gave in.

Despite Brandon somehow convincing them to let him go, his mother still demanded that she come to San Francisco and set everything for her son, much to the brunet's added annoyance. So, since the two of them landed here yesterday, they've been doing nothing but scouring for good houses for rent. Brandon sighed, shaking his head at the gazillion realtors they visited since yesterday. All the emails he sent to book appointments in advance had been in vain. Why? He probably would've gotten a good house on his own by now, but his mother's fussy pickiness is starting to take a toll on him — and the realtor's who's been relentlessly roaming around to bag a good deal with them but was trying to not let his impatience show.

Currently following the realtor, they entered a small town nearby called Sausalito which is about ten miles away from the bustling streets of San Francisco. Having lived in LA his entire life, he just wanted some peace and quiet. What better way to achieve that than to live in the country?

A faint smile of approval touched his lips as he eyed each house with wonder. Countryside houses are somehow always so different from the ones in a city's residential areas. Unlike the ones in a metropolitan area, these houses didn't look that modern, yet they were still glammed with a vintage touch. With extended green lawns, decorative fountains every ten houses, these two-storied houses were just beautifully breathtaking. The space between houses increased with each mile. The road narrowed; two lanes merged into one as farming fields soon covered the landscape.

A few miles out and before long, the realtor pulled over to a house. It was a single-storied brick house with a good enough driveway and a very nice lawn out in the front. Brandon followed and pulled off the road and into the driveway of the house. He parked the car a few feet behind the realtor's vehicle.

"Do you _really_ have to live this far from the city?" Heather frowned, stepping out of the car. "I mean, it's still a fifteen-mile drive every day."

"Mom, I'll be fine. Seriously," Brandon replied with a shake of his head. It's only fifteen miles. Yeah, the travel might be annoying every once in a while, but it is completely outweighed by his unwavering necessity for some peace.

Alfred White, the realtor, ushered them to follow him. "Alright, guys. Come on in," he addressed in a thick Southern accent. Brandon and Heather followed him to the front door as he unlocked the house. "A three-bedroom house with a one and half bathroom," Alfred explained. "Plenty of light and sunshine!" he advertised, smiling in satisfaction.

Brandon looked around. Out of the three bedrooms, he'll use one to sleep in, another as an office, and the last one to just..._yet to decide, I guess, _he chuckled to himself. Maybe a girl can use it as a guest bedroom…or his parents. Heh. He smirked to himself. He also didn't deny that a 3BHK house offered more freedom than a 1BHK.

"So, what do ya think?" Alfred asked with a snort after explaining all the details.

"It's nice..." Brandon started. "But the rent's actually a little higher than I thought," he admitted with a small frown. _Great. _Now he's the one being picky.

Brandon stepped out of the house, eyeing the view in front. It was actually beautiful on the outside. The lawn was pretty big, and the backyard was encased with white picket fences. Behind the fences was probably someone else's property that stretched for acres into somewhat akin to farming fields.

There was far less population here than in the city, something he was thankful and relieved for. He looked around the lawn before eyeing the other homes in the vicinity. They were all beautiful with Victorian, vintage touches.

He casually scanned his eyes around when the duplex house on the exact opposite side of the street caught his eye. He took a few steps forward before a curious look of wonder stretched onto his face. The home itself looked beautiful just like the others, but there was something different to this one. It was quite old-fashioned with a stone chimney. Lined with dark red bricks and large glass windows, the home overlooked a verdant, almost neatly trimmed lawn littered with brown, crunchy leaves here and there.

_Nice, _he murmured under his breath. It was beautiful. His gaze soon darted to the 'For Sale' sign sticking out from the front of the lawn in blaring, bright-red, capital letters. _Hmm. _As far as he knew, homes for sale are available for rental sometimes except there are certain, more specific terms and conditions in the lease. Well, it never hurt to ask.

He knew he was running out of time; he needed to head into work in a few days and he had no residence yet. _I'll look at one last house, _he reasoned with himself. He'll look at one more and then he'll make a choice. "How much is that house?" Brandon asked out of curiosity before turning to Alfred.

Alfred's eyes widened to a great deal as he followed the brunet's line of sight. He glumly sighed before lowering his voice just a little and speaking in a somewhat hushed tone, as if someone is eavesdropping. "It's offered for a really great deal actually, but I gotta tell you this. No one's willing to buy it. Poor guy. Baker's been tryna sell it for years now, but not a single person came forward."

Brandon raised an eyebrow. _Yeah, I wonder why, _he resisted the urge to roll his eyes at the way Alfred immediately dissed him from even asking questions about it, much less be given a tour on it. With a _wonderful_ marketing advertisement like that, he can't imagine why people would buy it. "Why?" he asked with interest.

Alfred shrugged. "I wouldn't know. The tenants refused to stay longer than a month. When asked, they said that the house was..." he rubbed his stubble chin, trying to think of a good word, "...uncomfortable to live in. The most recent occupants were a family. Their eight-year-old started talking to someone imaginary and the family took that as a cue to pack up, I guess."

Brandon raised an eyebrow before chuckling in disbelief a second later. _That's the explanation? _"So? All little kids have imaginary friends." It wasn't a secret. Honestly, people these days clearly have nothing better to do than make up bogus.

Alfred shrugged. "Well, that's what I heard," he said. "It's been up in the market for a few years now and not a single person came forward to live in it," he shrugged.

"Can we take a look?" Brandon nudged his mother. "Is it open for rental?" he asked Alfred.

"But he just said that no one wants to live there," Heather frowned, siding with Alfred on this one.

"There's no harm in looking, right?" Brandon shrugged. He's the last person to believe in haunted houses. He really didn't believe in that kind of magical hocus-pocus. It's just canting claptrap that humans use as an excuse when they see things they don't understand. But being a man of science, he strongly believed that everything had an explanation. To be honest, eight-year-olds claiming to see and talk to things that aren't visible to adults isn't anything out of the ordinary. Kids do that all the time.

Alfred stared at him for a second before shrugging. "Alrighty then. I'm gonna give Baker a call," he said before whipping out his cell phone and stepping away.

Brandon crossed his fingers, hoping that the call will go well.

Meanwhile, Heather took this time to talk to him. "Honey, what are you doing?" she asked with a pointed glance.

Seeing the skeptical frown on his mother's face, Brandon raised an eyebrow. "Mom, you too? Really?" he asked in confusion. "Don't tell me you're buying that," he said before rolling his eyes with a laugh.

"Well, I'm not...but it's still not something that I'm comfortable with," Heather said with a shrug. Sure, she didn't really take Alfred that seriously, but nonetheless, it's not something she wanted her son to live in. Some things are just meant to look from afar.

"Look, we'll just take a look. If we don't like it, then we'll take this house," Brandon said, pointing a thumb towards the one they just looked at.

Heather opened her mouth to respond when Alfred returned from his call. "Okay. The owner's on his way," he informed.

Brandon nodded while Heather remained silent at the news. She wasn't the type to listen to hocus pocus either, but nonetheless, she was still a little old-fashioned. She didn't really understand the need to take such a risk, no matter how insignificant, when there is a perfectly good alternative elsewhere.

_**Twenty minutes later...**_

Brandon and the party watched as a grey SUV pulled up into the driveway of the house on the opposite side of the road. "Well, there he is," Alfred shrugged before gesturing them to follow. The three crossed the road and approached the vehicle.

A medium-heighted man, probably in his early fifties, stepped out of the van with a pleasant smile on his face. "Hello, I'm Michael Baker. Pleased to make your acquaintance," he said politely while extending a hand.

Heather shook it with a smile. "You too, Mr. Baker. I'm Heather McKnight and this is my son Brandon," she introduced. Brandon simply nodded in response.

"Mr. Baker, we understand that you've put up this house for sale. Would you be open for extending it to a rental?" Brandon asked.

"Wouldn't have come if I didn't," the owner laughed pleasantly. "And please, just call me Michael." He fished into his pockets before taking out a set of multiple keys. "Why don't we take a tour?" he suggested, getting straight to the point.

Brandon's eyes lit up as he nodded. Heather sighed at the curious light bulbs in her son's eyes as they followed the two men up the porch. They haven't even stepped foot into the house, and he already seemed to take a liking to it.

Michael opened the lock. "I apologize for the mess inside," he said in advance while gently pushing the door open.

Brandon followed them inside with Heather behind him. _Nice, _the brunet's eyes widened as he looked on the interior of the fully furnished house. Sheets were covered over the furniture to prevent degradation. The house felt a little stuffy, but it's nothing a little fresh air and some open windows can't fix.

The interior was beautiful. Brandon's eyes darted around the living room, where a large, lovely, river stone fireplace rested on the wall to the left, along with a few couches in front of it. Brandon grinned in satisfaction. He liked this house already. The two men soon left the mother-son duo to go explore.

Brandon ran his eyes through the style of this house. The eclectic interpretations of the home reminded him of earlier architecture styles from the Victorian and Medieval eras. Spiral staircases, polished wooden floorboards, stone walls, warm colors, bright lighting, plenty of windows, and bedrooms extending into balconies brought back the Victorian nostalgia that many modern homes seem akin to miss. The only difference was nothing was too cluttered. There was still ample space to move around and go about his day without annoying himself or accidentally knocking things over.

Ten to fifteen minutes later, Brandon found himself roaming upstairs, wondering which bedroom he should use for sleeping. He smiled faintly at his own idiocy. They hadn't even signed a lease yet and he was already getting way too ahead of herself.

Brandon hummed in response when he felt his mom grab his arm from behind. He turned only to see her mom looking a little uneasy. "What is it?" the brunet asked in a hushed tone, wondering if something was wrong.

"Sweetie, I don't know about this," Heather repeatedly chanted.

Brandon sighed. "Mom, are you seriously going to tell me that you believe this house is what? Haunted?" he asked, resisting an urge to roll his eyes at the absurdity. _How ludicrous._

"...I don't, but if people aren't staying long in this house, then maybe there's a reason?" Heather tried.

"Okay. Maybe you're right. Then let me find that reason on my own," Brandon challenged.

_Excuse me? _Heather opened her mouth to protest when he beat her to it again.

"Mom, there's not a record of anyone being hurt. So, what can you possibly be afraid of?" he asked in clueless confusion. "This is literally the nicest house on the market. Not to mention it's _way _cheaper than the cheapest house I've ever seen so far."

Heather narrowed her eyes suspiciously. "All the more reason for me to suspect things! I'm not going to have my son in this house." But soon, she realized that there was no use arguing with this boy considering how _stubborn _he looked. She had to admit though. Brandon had a valid point. No one mentioned anything of being hurt. All they knew was that a family vacated because their little eight-year-old started spewing imaginary _nonsense_.

"Mom, please," Brandon clutched her arm before shaking it. "I really want to live here, and I want you to be okay with it," he asked. He really wanted his mom's approval. Afterall, this _is_ his first time living alone. He wanted his parents to feel like they made a good decision. He wanted them to be okay and not be apprehensive with his decisions. "I work with the law enforcement. If there's something wrong, it's my job to find out why and fix it," he gently said, hoping she'll relent.

Heather sighed at his logic. It was still ridiculous in her opinion, but she relented. "Fine. But promise me that you'll call me every day and you'll take good care of yourself," she warned, caving in.

"Deal," Brandon smirked.

* * *

_**A few hours later...**_

And it was done. During the past few hours, they filled out the paperwork. Michael was over the moon, finally being able to find a tenant, that too an enthusiastic one. He thanked Heather and Brandon profusely. But to be honest, it was actually the young brunet who was immensely grateful. This was a duplex house out in the country with a beautiful view, meaning that rent should be preposterously higher. But the ludicrous rumors killed that and let him have the house for a great, affordable price.

After the formalities, Brandon and Heather went back to their hotel to get the former's luggage before unloading it all in the new house. The brunet carried his bags upstairs before placing them in the largest bedroom.

"Are you sure that you don't want me to help? I can stay back. It's completely fine," Heather offered, looking around. "And it looks like there's a lot to clean up," she noted, having observed a few dusty shelves and floors on the way.

"I'll be fine," Brandon reassured her before giving her a hug.

Heather nodded. "If you need anything, let me know. Take care and call me whenever you need," she said, giving him a hug.

Brandon nodded. "Will do," he said before checking the time on his watch. "You should get going if you want to catch the flight," he suggested. They've made a booking a few hours ago, a little after the lease was confirmed.

Pretty soon, Heather left, leaving Brandon alone. The brunet was only too excited to be in the house by himself. Locking the front door, he let out a sigh of immense relief. "Finally!" he smirked to himself, breaking out a fist bump. He can't believe it took this long for him to feel this liberated.

Whenever he'd go on dates, it was actually humiliating to tell women that he still lived with his parents. _Not to mention LAME. _They must've thought about what a useless slob he was. It was mortifying to say the least.

_Okay, first things first,_ he clapped his hands together. He raced upstairs to his room to get a quick shower and then maybe go sightseeing afterwards. He went straight to his suitcase and grabbed a couple of essentials: towels, soap, shower gel, shampoo, etc. He took his things to the bathroom. Closing the door behind him, he hopped into the shower.

Forty minutes later, he turned the taps off before taking out a white turkey towel and wrapping it around his waist. He took a smaller one, using it to drain the excess water out of his hair. He checked himself out in the mirror as a small smirk donned his lips. He ruffled his brown hair before letting it air dry. After applying a little deodorant, he turned to go out and get dressed.

His hands touched the knob before he suddenly froze when a loud creak and a faint set of footsteps came from outside the door. He stopped instantly and blinked in shock. His eyes widened while his lips parted open into a big 'oh'. "What the f—?!" he coughed quite loudly in his shock before standing utterly still like a statue. He stared at the door, wondering if he really did hear that or if it was just a figment of his imagination.

He wasn't scared of living alone. And he's most definitely not the type to be easily spooked by the littlest things, but _this..._

His heart raced slightly as his fingers unconsciously clutched the knob tighter. He wasn't a scaredy-cat, but sometimes, mustering up the courage to see if an intruder is in a house as big as this was necessary.

After a long moment, he marshalled the grit to check it out. He tiptoed before pressing his ear against the door and listening for any other unbidden sounds.

_Silence._

_Nothing, _he narrowed his eyes suspiciously before stepping back slightly. After a second of contemplation, his fingers slowly unpicked the knob before turning it. He slowly opened the door to scan the room, readying himself for anything unexpected.

"Hello?" he called out stupidly. "Is anyone here?" he asked. The tiny space he allowed himself to see obscured his vision of the room. He peered around the room, his scrutinizing gaze lingering for a few extra seconds in shadowy areas like underneath his bed. Nothing appeared out of the ordinary or seized his attention for too long. He directed his eyes towards the bedroom door, which was still closed and locked.

When there was nothing threatening in sight, he narrowed his eyes suspiciously before stepping fully out of the bathroom. _Was it just his imagination? _He inspected the room with narrowed eyes, scanning each and every inch once again for anything out of the ordinary. _I couldn't have imagined that… Right? _The only hidden place in this bedroom was the closet. He immediately walked over before rapidly swinging the doors open and then readying his fist immediately. "Ha!" He blinked in hesitation when he saw nothing. The closet was empty and shelves unoccupied. _Nothing. _

He dubiously looked around before scratching his head in confusion. "What's going on?" he murmured to himself with a faint whisper, giving the room another meticulous scan. But no…_nothing._

Hmm.

…Guess it was really his imagination. "This is so stupid," he muttered to himself, feeling quite humiliated at being spooked out for nothing. _At least no one saw it. __BUT _he really did have a pretty good defense. The house was in an on-and-off relationship with various tenants for god-knows-how-long years now. Alfred mentioned four. So…it's pretty much abandoned.

Maybe that's it? _Maybe a little squirrel/racoon might've stepped inside?_ He nodded to himself, satisfied with his theory. Hey, you never know. It's plausible. He laughed a little nervously a second later, thinking that the little animal probably came inside and stepped on a creaky part of the floor, scaring itself to death and then scurrying the hell away in fright.

With tension slowly alleviating from him, he moved over to his suitcase before taking out a comfortable, sleeveless white hoodie and a pair of black sweatpants. His towel soon slid off his body before amassing into a small pile at the base of his feet. He got dressed before raking a hand through his hair. A few damp, chestnut strands still covered his forehead and he decided to just let them be.

After grooming himself, he decided to go exploring. He had the weekend to turn this house into a livable home. He also needed to make sure that all of the things — taps, bulbs, power, etc. — worked properly and get them fixed if not. Not the most fun parts on earth, but he wouldn't have time to tend to their needs during the weekdays.

He stepped out of his room and strolled through the hall, his eyes casually scanning the few framed paintings that were hung on the walls. He eyed the carpet, where certain spots were strewed with dirt and lint. _Oh, boy, _he sighed. _Gotta vacuum tomorrow, _he made a mental note. When the landlord was saying the house was in an unkempt condition, he wasn't kidding. In fact, it was a downright understatement. He seriously needed to do a full house clean tomorrow and rest on the day after.

Brandon groaned. He really should've taken up his mother's offer to help. This house suddenly felt too big to clean up all by himself in two days. He decided to just screw it and have a cleaning crew ready in here by tomorrow or the day after.

Shrugging, he shoved his hands into his pockets before climbing downstairs. There were two bedrooms below, smaller than the ones upstairs. He figured he'll just use one as an office and then another as storage or whatever.

He went to the living room before seeing that most of the furniture was hidden underneath protective covers while the remaining fragile and sensitive pieces were wrapped in bubble covers. Brandon removed the covers from the furniture and fanned himself to keep the flying dust out of his face. Tossing the covers aside, he casually looked around, finally resorting to have a cleaning crew in here tomorrow and having them do the manual labor. With a casual shrug of his shoulders, he ventured further into the back to see a sunroom behind the kitchen. He hadn't had a chance to look at everything closely since he was too busy convincing his mother that there was absolutely nothing here that could be of harm to him. He chuckled to himself. That's funny to even think about. How can an inanimate house do any damage to him?

He opened the door, stepping into the sunroom. His eyes widened in amazement at how impressively clean this room looked compared to the other ones. It wasn't entirely spotless, but at least it was in a way better living condition than the other areas. He looked around the room to see more paintings and a stack of empty canvases. His eyes darted over to one particular painting that stood out amongst the crème walls. He involuntarily took a few steps towards it. It was a painting of a girl. He ran his eyes over her features, letting his gaze wander slowly over her hazel-brown_ (or was it gold?)_ orbs, her strikingly beautiful, flowy hair with a sheerly unique shade of molten honey, and most of all…the _very _faint smile that was on her lips, one that's almost as obscure and cryptic as the one on Mona Lisa herself. He couldn't tell if she was happy, sad, or angry. Her eyes were a fierce, light golden-brown. With eyebrows arched up with a slight angle near the brow bone and lips pressed together, he didn't really understand what to make of this expression. But then again, he was neither an artist nor a critic. Still, this painting was gorgeous and it's hard to believe that someone drew this girl with such fine details. If not for the gorgeous shades of watercolors, one can easily mistake it as a printed, augmented photograph. _What talent._

Brandon recalled Michael saying that some of the stuff in this house was years old and was passed from generation to generation. The latter did assure that he will remove some of them soon. Michael had admittedly been using this house as a storage space. Can't blame him.

If this painting was old, then the girl in it must be an ancestor or something. Who knows? Heh. "Too bad you're not real anymore…" he chuckled to himself, glancing at the painting once more. This girl was definitely the kind of material he would be interested in. Look at her; she's gorgeous.

With a shrug, he turned around to continue sightseeing. He closed the door to the sunroom. As he returned to the kitchen, oblivious to anything but the shelves in front of him…the lights in the sunroom started to flicker rapidly before they turned off permanently within seconds as a sudden gust of wind blew through the room, rattling the windows faintly.

* * *

**~ 9:30 PM ~**

After dusting off and cleaning up a few of the essential areas, i.e., the living room, kitchen, etc., Brandon crashed on one of the couches in front of the fireplace with his laptop. He eyed his dinner plate hungrily before placing it into his lap and opening Netflix on his computer. He played one of his favorite movies, _Hush,_ before leaning back and relaxing against the recliner leisurely. _Finally,_ he rolled his shoulders and sunk into the cushion deeper, snuggling himself into the furniture.

Engrossed in the film as he watched Sarah, the protagonist's friend in the film, being brutally murdered, he never noticed the shadow that crept up behind him and slowly climb on top of the couch and just…sit there.

Almost thirty minutes into the movie, Brandon clicked pause when he realized that the room had gotten considerably colder. He eyed the skin on his arms, the hair follicles being threatened with goosebumps as they stood up at an angle. "What now?" he mumbled before sighing and getting up, placing his plate and laptop aside. He went straight to the temperature controller. He blinked in confusion when he saw the temperature set to the standard level which was seventy degrees. He returned back to the living room before putting his hands up at the blowers. The air was…normal again. That's odd. "Must've been on the fritz for a second there," he reasoned, shrugging to himself. He didn't know when the last tenant stayed here, but it wasn't anytime recent. So, it must've taken the blowers to take some time to get back online.

He sat back on the couch and resumed the movie.

Within minutes, his eyes were glued to the screen in anticipation as the film revealed the face of the antagonist. Had he paid attention just a _little, _he might've noticed the very faint pressure of the seat beside him being pressed down…almost as if there's something on it.

…_or…someone._

* * *

**~ 11:45 PM ~**

After completing the movie and cleaning up the kitchen, Brandon returned upstairs to head to sleep. He turned off all the lights, leaving only two or three nightlights to keep the hallways lit. Out of habit, he locked the door behind him.

He hopped into his bed before the switching off the lamp on the desk beside him. He nestled his way into the covers, relaxing his body and pulling out his phone to check his emails and other official things before moving onto some last-minute entertainment surfing.

* * *

-:-:-:-

He didn't know when he fell asleep but…he didn't wake up on his own. Something woke him up. His eyes fluttered open when he heard a sound. He sat up slowly in his bed, straining his ears to hear something from _outside _his room. It sounded like…something was crinkling…like paper. _No, no…not paper, _he breathed. It sounded like something harder. Like…_glass, _he decoded as he slowly got out of bed. With faint, cautious footsteps, he approached the door before his fingers twisted the knob. _Wait, what are you doing?! _Brandon internally screamed at himself, but his body didn't seem to hear his commands. _Stop, it could be dangerous! _He continued to protest himself, but his body didn't listen. It kept ignoring him. Panic seized him as the door opened to reveal an empty hallway. He left the room and stepped into a dimly lit hallway. Everything felt so familiar, yet foreign at the same time. _What's going on?!_

Brandon kept taking smaller steps to the source of that sound. It sounded like shards of glass being played with. He ventured deeper into the hallway, never noticing the hallway darkening behind him. He gasped as he suddenly stopped.

He strained his eyes and ears to see in the dim darkness. And that's when he saw it. _Fog…? _He kept staring. The fog seemed to have a mind of its own. It grew paler and seemed like it was…_glowing. _He watched in a trance as it started to…_move._ Pale-white, crystalline shimmers swirled in the air, warping and twisting around themselves amorphous-fashioned like a pool of sparkling dust before slowly concocting into the shape of an…_is that an hourglass? _He blinked when he realized that it was a…woman. Her hair strands shimmered as long silver-grey wisps curled around her forehead. She was more than just a chill in the air. She seemed to be a shimmer of cool, icy mist as she started to congeal into a solid form, but her face was still amorphous and blurry, disabling him from understanding what he was looking at.

The clock stopped ticking as the room went frigid cold. He stepped back slightly as the hair on his neck stood up straight and his body fell victim to goosebumps. He stood paralyzed, unable to move as his eyes kept blankly staring at the woman submerged in the mist.

A violent chill of terror ran down his spine when he saw a flash of red. And all of a sudden, a terrifying, demonic cry, contorting of anger and rage, escaped her lips as she screamed her throat raw.

-:-:-:-

* * *

Brandon suddenly sat up straight with a sharp gasp. "Ahhhh!" he gasped loudly as his eyes peeled wide open. He instantly clutched his heart while wildly looking around. He jumped and hastily turned on the lamp on the nightstand beside him. The room instantly glowed a dull yellow. Breathing shallowly, he looked around wildly but there was absolutely nothing out of the ordinary. The door to his room was still firmly locked from before.

…_Nothing. _It was just a nightmare. A _freaky _one, but nonetheless, a nightmare...

He panted as he raked his hands through his messy mane. He grabbed his water bottle from the nightstand before chugging the cool liquid down his throat, satiating his sudden thirst. He breathed a huge sigh of relief a few seconds later. _A nightmare. _Nothing more. He fell back on the bed again as he attempted to get his breathing in check.

His skin was covered in a thick film of sweat. His heart had nearly leapt out of his chest at that scream. _What the hell was that? _It felt…it felt so real. Almost…tangible.

He glared at himself at the first thing that came to his mind. _A ghost? _Brandon shook his head. _No…that's ridiculous, _he panted. This place must be really getting to him. Ghosts didn't exist. They're all superficial myths. And even if they _did _exist, they're not visible to a living human being. As far as he's concerned, he's alive as hell. So, he's good. He won't be seeing any ghosts any time soon.

But still…he never had nightmares before. Not one like this. It felt…real. But it would also explain why he couldn't control his body in his dream. _Thank god. _He would be _freaked _if that happened in real life. He sighed to himself. "This place must be really getting to me," he reasoned before rubbing his eyes. He sighed and looked around once more to make sure and reassure himself.

He was just about to turn off the light to go to sleep when his phone on the nightstand rang. He blinked in surprise at the odd timing of the call, but he sighed in relief when he saw that it was from his mom. She must've made it home.

"Hey, Mom," he smiled into the phone. "Did you reach yet?" After the abrupt, uninvited wake-up call, he was happy to hear a familiar voice.

"Yep, your dad just picked me up," Heather grinned before smiling at her husband Lucas.

"Major husband points, don't you think?"Lucas chuckled from beside before continuing to drive.

Brandon chuckled before turning to the side and propping his head up on his elbow.

"Were you asleep?" Heather asked, suddenly remembering that it was late at night.

"No," Brandon answered. _I was…_he thought to himself with a sarcastic snort,_ until being rudely awakened by a nightmare. _But being the paranoid, overprotective mother that Heather naturally was _and _considering she looked for an excuse even at the last minute to bail him from this rumor-infested house, he really didn't think it was a good idea to tell her all that.

"Have you checked everything yet? Is everything working?" Heather enquired curiously.

"Well, my room is a little hot, but I'll get someone here tomorrow to fix the ventilation," Brandon shrugged.

"See, you could've just stayed with us!" Heather poked, indirectly telling her son it still wasn't too late.

Brandon facepalmed. _Way to go, dude! _"Mom, please. It's fine. I really like it here." And it was alone has its own advantages. And for once, the environment here was much more pleasant than the one he was accustomed to.

And he didn't mind that the house had a few problems. It just hasn't been in usage for a while. What did he expect? And besides, the pros that came with this place far outweighed the one or two cons. Being here still feels so surreal. He hadn't originally planned on moving into this big of a house, to be honest. The house had plenty of rooms when he literally only needed _one _or, at the max, _two. _But when he saw the interior, he loved it. The _incredible_ low rate was a fated blessed bonus. Because of the rumors, it seems like the owners were just desperate to get rid of it somehow and pass over the responsibilities to someone else.

After chatting with his parents for another few minutes, Brandon hung up before placing his phone to the side.

He wasn't wrong about one thing. This room lacked some serious, sane ventilation. "Why is it so damn hot in here?" he grumbled in irritation before fanning himself. Out of all the rooms he could've picked, he had to choose the hottest one. He lay back in the bed before deciding to just suck it up and go back to sleep while making a mental note to have someone here and fix this air-conditioning issue tomorrow. He kicked off the covers. He killed the lights before closing his eyes and letting sleep fill his again.

After the unexpected, yet welcomed call from his parents, whatever it is that woke him up, it was forgotten. Within five to ten minutes, the brunet fell into a blissful slumber again.

After his breaths grew steady and rhythmic, despite the windows being closed, a soft gush of wind suddenly started to breeze through the house while the room's temperature started to drop by the second. His disturbed, furrowed brows slowly relaxed as the room continued to cool.

Had he been awake…he would've heard the light, gentle patter of footsteps that approached his bed. His moonlit-illuminated face dimmed for a few seconds as a shadow fell on him. Before long, the footsteps moved away, the sounds fading with each step.

* * *

_**Preview for the next chapter...**_

_"There was an active wire passing current actively through the water. You could've been fatally shocked," the plumber said with disbelief._

_"W-What?!" Brandon stuttered in shock._

* * *

_Finally able to publish!_ I swear it took me _months_ to write this chapter. :O And it _still_ looks nerve-wracking.

This was just an idea that rolled into my head about four to five months ago? If I'm not wrong. Anyways, I hope you enjoyed the first chapter, a.k.a. a rough draft of the story. This was just an introduction/prologue, so it was probably really…lame. X_X My intro chapters are so lame most of the time xD I'm sorry if anything felt rushed or if you didn't understand some things. I promise I'll try to take care of them in the next chapter.

Oh and before I forget, I have to credit my inspiration! _Duh._ I was watching _Hush _a few months ago and ***SPOILER ALERT* **basically, it's about this deaf/mute author named Maddie who lives in an isolated location and she's forced to defend herself against a psychotic killer. So, basically, even if he's behind her or turns on a tap in the kitchen, she's totally unaware. And it got me thinking. Why should a female be the damsel in distress all the time? *smirks evilly* Why not have a _guy _pee his pants instead :D? It would be so much fun! At least, I think so :P

Anyways, now that you heard me blab unnecessarily, I'm usually really nervous whenever I post a new story, and this one's no different. It's been months since I posted a new story, so I thought I'd post one now. I'd _love _to know what you think! Please be constructive. If you know me even a _little_ bit, then you know me well enough to know that there's a 100% chance I'll listen to that rather than mean and hateful comments :) *Pinky swear* Writing anything that's, you know, paranormal is something I've never really done before, so writing this was way out of my comfort zone. Often, I'd be staring at my computer, wondering what word to type next. So, if anyone has any pointers or if you know any authors who obviously would've done better than me, I'd love to hear about them as well :)

(: Thank you! :)


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